


What I Need

by orphan_account



Category: Hot Chelle Rae
Genre: Drinking, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-04
Updated: 2012-05-04
Packaged: 2017-11-04 19:30:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,038
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/397384
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ryan figures out something about Nash that makes him rather nervous.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What I Need

It was kind of weird.

 

At first, Ryan paid it no mind. After all, it didn’t really matter what inspired the song, as long as it was written and written well. And Nash did write well. Really well. Really, really well. And when they wrote together, they just clicked, and the songs were amazing.

 

Problematique was amazing. When Nash handed him the song, with that silent command, it just fit Ryan so well. It didn’t need much editing, just a tweak or two with the bass and Jamie had to work out the drum bit.

 

It was just weird, you know, that Nash was so inspired to write that, just as Ryan got out of the shower. Nash had been waiting for Ryan- apparently Jamie thought it A-Okay to let him into Ryan’s room while Ryan was showering- on his bed, when Ryan emerged, thankfully covered by a towel. Nash took one look at Ryan, and that look, that inspired look dawned on the ginger’s face.

 

“Do you have any paper?” Nash had asked.

 

“What are you doing in my room?”

 

“Paper. Do you have,” Nash reiterated.

 

“Yeah, on the desk.”

 

Nash pounced on Ryan’s desk and started to write, and he would not say a word to Ryan- who had to dress while Nash was right there- until it was done.

 

But Ryan held it as one of those things. Something inspired Nash, it didn’t matter what, to write a great song, great enough to land on their debut album, so who really cared about the hows and whys?

 

But then it happened again. In Australia, on tour. It was the first time he and Nash shared a hotel room, instead of Nash and Ian. Ian- like Jamie- needed dark and quiet to sleep. Ryan, who had been sharing a room with Jamie since Jamie was a crying, babbling infant had grown used to noise and nightlights that infant Jamie required, and so he was used to sleeping in any sort of situation. Nash, apparently was a noisy night texter. So, the switch seemed logical.

 

Of course, this time, while showering, Ryan knew there was a high chance of exiting the bathroom to see his ginger guitarist. So, again with the logic, he brought his sweatpants and briefs with him to the bathroom. And when he exited, Nash was at the desk, surfing the Internet. Or reading an eBook. Whatever. He was doing something that involved his laptop. It doesn’t matter. The point: He looked at Ryan, then started typing, rapidly.

 

“Dude?”

 

“Yes?”

 

“What are you-?”

 

“Writing.”

 

“What are you-?”

 

“Go to sleep.” Nash… suggested? Stated? It wasn’t an order. It didn’t sound angry. It sounded almost needy. And since it was almost three in the morning, Ryan didn’t fight it. He just went about his nightly routine, before claiming the bed closest to the window.

 

He most certainly was not lulled by the sound of typing into sleep.

 

At some point in the night (morning?), the bed dipped. At some point in the night, the typing got louder, closer. At some point in the night, the typing paused, briefly, and a weight settled on his hand, something warm. But, years of Jamie’s night terrors trained him to accept a warmth crawling into his bed, sniffling and crying, needing a big brother’s protection, because mommy and daddy were busy with a new hit. Despite just how scarily different this was, Jamie’s training made him quite literally roll with it, and he gently rolled towards the warmth on his hand. There was a chuckle, and the typing resumes, and Ryan fell back asleep.

 

The song was called Keep You With Me, and it made Ryan cry. It wasn’t until later he remembered when Nash started writing it, and what may have happened in his sleep induced haze.

 

Jamie and Ryan were best friends, despite their age difference. It made high school difficult, sure, but it didn’t matter. They did everything together. Maybe it started when Jamie was new, and he needed someone to do everything for him, and Adrienne was busy trying to reignite Keith’s career, their only source of income, so Ryan had to do everything. Maybe that was started their codependency. But Ryan always knew exactly what Jamie wanted and needed. They didn’t even have to look at each other to know.

 

Ryan wasn’t sure what exactly Nash wanted from him. There were times he reminded Ryan of Jamie, happily tugging on his arm, trying to get him to go places together, to read this comic in the funny section, to go fucking snorkeling in the coral reefs with him (though admittedly, Jamie had never had the chance to ask Ryan that back in Nashville). But Nash wasn’t Jamie. He didn’t need Ryan there to tie his shoelaces. He didn’t need Ryan to tell him to eat his greens. He didn’t need Ryan to put on Band-Aids and blow on the cuts like the other mommies did for their kids. He didn’t need Ryan to hold him through his first broken heart, or to hold his hand through getting braces put on and taken off, to teach him to swim, to teach him about sex, how to walk, how to ride a tricycle, then a bicycle, and finally a bicycle without the wheels.

 

But Nash wanted something. He needed Ryan to sing for him, yes, but he wanted something different. It wasn’t singing. It wasn’t writing. He didn’t need to do this arm-tugging to get that from Ryan, he already fucking had it. But he wanted something else, and he was dancing and tugging his way around it and it was driving Ryan nuts. He’d catch Nash staring at him at dinner- and Ryan knew Nash was thinking about whatever it was he wanted- but as soon as Ryan looked up, Nash would look away.

As earlier stated, it was driving Ryan nuts. He knew that if he looked Nash in the eye during one of those moments when he was just plain staring at Ryan, Ryan would know what he wanted. But he couldn’t. Because Nash was fast. And it was driving Ryan nuts. He spent half his hard-earned sleeping hours trying to figure it out. Nash had what he needed from Ryan. The song and dance (that was not literally a song and dance) was not necessary.

Ryan started to figure it out the third time Nash caught him tail-end of a shower. This time he was in an oversized shirt and was in the midst of towel drying his hair.

“Hey dude.”

Nash mouthed ‘hi’ before swallowing and succeeding in finally saying it.

“You okay?” Ryan asked. “You look sick.”

Nash shut the door behind him. “No, no, I’m fine. I’m fine. “

Ryan eyed him. “You planning on re-dying your hair again?”

“What?”

“Please don’t go totally blond again. It did not work. I’m saying this as a friend: keep the sprig. You are a ginger. Not much else will work.”

Nash moved to the bed and started shuffling in his suit case.

“Though brown could. Just not the platinum. I’m begging you. You know what would be cool?” Ryan started. Nash didn’t seem to be paying attention. “Sorry, shutting up now. Its your hair.”

“Sounds great.”

Ryan raised his eyebrows at Nash’s reflection, as he tugged on some jeans. “You know, you should totally go eunuch. I hear it’s all the rage.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Sweet, I’ll make the castration appointment. How’s Friday? Just in time to pawty, right?”

“Perfect.”

Ryan laughed, which made Nash look up at him. “Dude, we just made you an appointment to have your balls cut off.”

“What?”

“At least we know you’re voice won’t change, right?” Ryan held his stomach from the laughter. Nash threw a pillow at him, glaring. “Oh, come on!” Ryan cried in a falsetto. “Met’inks its funny!”

Nash threw the clock at him.

“Okay, you are paying for the damages!” Ryan declared. Nash rolled his eyes. “What are you working on?”

“New song.”

“Yeah I figured. Care to share?” Ryan asked. Nash didn’t move. “Caring is sharing. Do you not care? That makes me sad.” Ryan pouted.

“I only just started.”

Ryan shrugged. “Time is relative.”

Nash considered him for a moment, before picking up his notebook, which he only wrote in during emergencies. He much preferred writing on a laptop- the environmentally considerate way to go about things. He was such a perfectionist with his work- a good thing- he’d probably need an entire forest for one song. Nash cleared his throat, and began to declare. “Why don’t you love me, touch me? Tell me I’m your everything, the air you breathe and why don’t you love me, baby? And that’s all I have.”

And Nash looked him in the eye, and there was that look. The look Jamie gave him when Ryan held him after a nightmare. The pleading look, the begging look Jamie wore when he begged Ryan to come to career day because Keith was writing for some dude trying to make a come back, and Ryan’s job at the Gap was way easier to explain and Ryan was way more likely to show.

But Nash hadn’t just had a nightmare. He didn’t need a brother to show up in class. And Ryan’s blood froze.

“It’s good.” Ryan said tightly. He reached into his pocket, pretending it had just rung. “It’s Jamie.”

“What’s he want?”

“Uh- he lost his drum stick.” Ryan said, creating a new message for Jamie. “I need to- you know.” He gestured with his phone. Dude, ur room, alone, now. He pressed send.

“Don’t you think Jamie’s old enough to find those by himself?”

“Nope. That’s why he has me.” Ryan ducked out the door.

What’s goin on?- James-stir

Epiphanies abound- RK

Ian passed him in the hall, and stopped him full pace with a hand. “Hey, dude, why did Jamie just kick me out?”

“Girl problems.” Ryan nodded.

“Jamie’s got a girl? When did this happen?”

“No, he’s being a girl.” Ryan grinned. Ian rolled his eyes. “Nash is writing something, so far sounds cool, may need your help.”

“Alright, cool.” Ian nodded and went on his merry way.

 

That was when Ryan ran full speed to Jamie’s room. “Dude, issues, now.” He jumped on the first bed he saw.

“Man, that’s Ian’s bed.”

“Do I look like I care?” Ryan groaned, fists by his ears.

“Dude, what happened?” Jamie demanded, sitting on the edge of the bed.

Ryan pushed himself up onto his forearms, and looked at Jamie in what he had to admit was a rather pitiful way. “Nash wants to have sex with me.”

Jamie’s face froze in a frown. “He… what?”

Ryan stood and started to pace. “Nash Overstreet wants sex with me.”

“Our Nash.”

“Yes.”

“Wants to-?”

“He wants to fuck me, yes!”

“Dude! I do not need to hear about this.”

“Jamie, help me!”

“How do you know this? He just said hey, lets fuck?”

“Not like that.” Ryan groaned.

“Well, then, how?”

“He’s caught me getting out of the shower three times. Those three times created Problematique, Keep You With Me and a chorus that is based in the lines of please love me.” Ryan counted on his fingers.

“What? He’s caught you showering?”

“Keep up with me here, Jamie! This spells disaster.”

“Okay, how does this spell disaster?”

“Okay, well, one, I like sex with girls. A lot. Two, he’s our lead guitarist? Once he realizes it is not going to happen, he’ll be crushed; we’ll be out a guitarist. And if something did happen, it’ll eventually crash and burn, and we’ll still be out a guitarist.”

“Ryan.”

Ryan collapsed on the bed. “What do I do?”

“I don’t know. Let him know you want him to stay?” Jamie asked.

“Damn it.” Ryan groaned.

“What?”

Ryan stood up and walked over to the mini-fridge.

“Are you getting drunk?”

“Yep. Thank god for the key to the minibar.” Ryan said. “The only way to have this conversation.”

“I don’t think that’s healthy.”

“I can’t wait until you’re twenty one.” Ryan said, chugging the first bottle he laid his hands on. “Oh! Gross!” He gagged. “I fucking hate cheap tequila.”

“I can.”

“You can what?”

“Wait til I’m twenty one.”

“Wait, we’re in Australia. Drinking age is eighteen.” Ryan said.

“I am not drinking with you, you sad toothpick of a man.”

“Me no toothpick, me no goat, me stick booze all down my throat.” Ryan sang.

“Goat?”

“First thing I could think of, god, this is gross.”

“So stop drinking it!” Jamie stated.

“This is a conversation I’m going to regret once I’ve had it.” Ryan sat on the bed next to Jamie. “I’d like to be able to blame my blood alcohol ratio for it. Can you please get drunk with me?”

“How about instead I ‘pass out’ with the bottle when Ian gets back?”

Ryan pondered this. “Will you stay passed out?”

Jamie nodded.

Ryan saluted with the bottle. “Cheers.”

***

Nash was putting the finishing touches on Why Don’t You Love Me, as was the obvious title, when Ian returned, this time, bearing a drunken Ryan on his waist.

“You’re eyes,” Ryan was trying to explain, “they don’t match. Why do you have three?”

“What the fuck-?” Nash held out his arms. Ian pushed Ryan into them.

“So Jamie is passed out with a bottle of tequila in my bed.” Ian declared.

“Your bed- we’re in a hotel.”

“I always take the one closest to the bathroom.” Ian said.

“You’re hair is so- am I high?” Ryan asked. “I don’t remember- fucking cheap goat- I mean throat. Booze.”

“Okay, I have no idea what that’s about.” Ian waved his hands in the air. “I’m going to take care of the underage drinker and make sure there’s no goats in the room.”

Nash nodded and kicked the door shut. “Now you need water.” Nash led Ryan by the elbows to the bed.

“There’s no goats in the room.” Ryan informed him, very formally, him as he sat. “That was just a song.”

“A song about goats?”

“Mm-hm, I was very clever.” Ryan nodded.

“Of course you were.”

“Because I am nos-tupid. No stupid. Not. Stupid. I. Am not. Stupid.” Ryan smiled once he said it right.

“Of course not.”

“I am smart. I see things.”

Nash sat and eyed him. “Do you see dead people? Do they know they’re dead? Am I dead?”

Ryan frowned. “You watch Weeds too much.”

“And you watch Dexter too much.” Nash started untying Ryan’s shoes.

“I know you want to fuck me.” Ryan said softly.

Nash looked up in shock.

“It’s not that hard to foo-figure out. You see me shower, you think, ‘I want sex.’” Ryan drawled. “It’s not bad. You’re a guy. It happens. At least now I know what you want from me.” Ryan pulled himself up and rested his chin on his knees.

“Ryan, that’s not what I want from you- I don’t want anything from you!”

Ryan jumped up. “I just told you, I’m not stupid! I’ve seen the way you look at me and hell, every time you see me wet you write a desperate love song!” Ryan stage whispered the last part.

“Ryan, that doesn’t mean I want to fuck you.”

“Yes it does!” Ryan protested. “You’re a guy! We think with our dicks.”

Nash stepped forward and took Ryan’s face in his hands. “Ryan, I can promise you, right now, I don’t just want to fuck you.”

Ryan seemed to break then and there. “Well that’s even worse!”

“What?”

Ryan pushed past him, and paced a few times. “Why can’ you be like Jamie? Can’t be Jamie. Can’t.”

Nash sat on the bed. “Because then I’d be eighteen and a drummer.”

“But I understand Jamie! I know what he needs from me! I can handle him!” Ryan muttered. “At least when you wanted to fuck me I know what you wanted!”

“Ryan-!”

Ryan ran to him and fell to his knees at Nash’s feet. “Just tell me what you want from me. I know s’not singing, you have that. What do you want? Please?” Ryan looked down, and realization dawned on him. “I don’ feel food. Good. I don’ feel good. Don’ want food cause I don’ feel good.”

“Okay.” Nash stood, took Ryan’s elbows once more and led him to the bathroom.

“You didn’ answer me.”

“I know, Ryan, I know.”

“But- I need-!”

“You need the toilet.” Nash opened the door, catching Ryan when he tripped over the tile and carpet switch.

“Why do I need- I don’ feel good.”

“Three, two, one-.”

Ryan fell to his knees and wretched. As he puked, Nash prepared a glass of water and Ryan’s tooth brush, and waited.

“I feel better now.” Ryan stated.

He handed Ryan his toothbrush and water, then patiently led him back to the bed.

“My question.”

“I don’t want anything-!”

“But you do, I can see it.”

“I want you to drink this water.” He handed Ryan another tall glass as Ryan got situated on the bed.

“Huh?”

Nash sat himself next to Ryan on the bed while Ryan was preoccupied with trying to understand the water. “You want- water?”

“Yes, you drink it.”

“But- I don’t-?”

“You take care of Jamie, right?” Ryan looked up at him and nodded. “You’re very good at it.” Ryan nodded once more. “What about you?”

“I-… water?” He held out the water for Nash.

“No, that’s for you. Bottoms up. We have interviews tomorrow.”

Ryan did as he was told and chugged it. “Tastes better than th’tequila.”

“No scotch?”

“Huh?”

“Nothing. Think you’ll remember this tomorrow?”

“’M not that drunk.”

“That’s debatable.” Nash commented. “Look, Ryan,” He said, wrapping an arm around him. “I don’t want to fuck you. Just, you be Jamie and I’ll be you’re Ryan?”

“You want to be lead singer?” Ryan mumbled, half asleep. “I can’t drum.”

“No, just, let me take care of you.”

“’M not good at that.”

“Don’t worry, okay?” Nash murmured into Ryan’s hair. “Don’t ever worry. I’ll take care of it.”

“That sounds nice.” Ryan admitted, and curled into Nash to fall asleep.


End file.
